Gambling Man
by ice shredder
Summary: Strung out after the defeat of the Bone Doctor, Brandt took a few moments to wonder why he hadn't proposed a back up plan in case things went south. Gambling wasn't a foolproof strategy and he dreaded the one mission when Ethan's risk taking wouldn't be enough to bring everyone home alive. One-shot post Rogue Nation. T for slight language. Enjoy!


**Title: Gambling Man**

 **Fandom: Mission Impossible**

 **Author: ice shredder**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Spoilers: Post Rogue Nation**

 **Summary: Strung out after capturing the Bone Doctor, Brandt took a few moments to wonder why he hadn't proposed a back up plan in case things went south. Gambling wasn't a foolproof strategy and he dreaded the one mission when Ethan's risk taking wouldn't be enough to bring everyone home alive.**

Brandt woke up in his hotel bed in a cold sweat, panting like he'd just run after that van peeling out of that parking garage with Benji inside, a prisoner of the Bone Doctor. Midmorning sun streamed through the half open curtains. In a few hours they'd be on a flight to America, but Brandt couldn't shake the deep unease settling in his stomach.

"Brandt?" Ethan's sleep laden voice broke through his mini panic attack. The older agent lay sprawled in one of the hotel room's chairs. Upon hearing his friend's rapid breathing that signaled a nightmare he snapped awake, ready to comfort him. "You okay?"

Brandt swung his legs over the side of his bed, pausing to take in Benji sleeping soundly on the bed next to his, mouth slightly open. _He's alive._ Thanks to Ethan's risky bluff, the Englishman escaped with his life. But Brandt knew it was a close call. _Too_ close for comfort. And next time they might not be so lucky.

"I'm going for a walk," he said, completely ignoring his friend's concerned look as he pulled on a set of sweats and a clean shirt. "Be back in a bit."

"Brandt-"

"Not now man." His soft, weary tone stopped Ethan in his tracks. "I need to get some air. Clear my head." His blue eyes strayed to Benji's slumbering form. "Besides, someone's gotta be here when he wakes up."

Ethan nodded. After narrowly avoiding tragedy in that open air restaurant, he didn't want to let any of his team out of his sight. But if Brandt wanted some space, then he wasn't going to stop him from having some.

"Keep your phone on."

Brandt rolled his eyes as he donned a light jacket.

"Okay dad."

Ethan straightened a frown on his normally upbeat features.

"Seriously man. Just do it. For me."

The analyst nodded, seeing the haunted look in his friend's ocean blue eyes. Lane's twisted sense of justice had shaken Ethan more deeply than he cared to admit. Their enemies were getting stronger and smarter with each passing day and monsters more dangerous than Lane were out there waiting for their chance to strike.

"Okay, man. I'll keep it on."

...

Several minutes later Brandt exited the hotel into the crisp morning light, the hood to his jacket up covering his face. He let his sneakered feet carry him wherever they chose to go, having no real specific direction but he could find his way back to the hotel no matter where he ended up.

His mind wasted no time conjuring the explosive vest Lane had strapped to his best friend's chest, issuing commands through his mouth like he was some damned robot. Brandt dug his fingers into his thighs, his hands stuffed into his sweats pockets. Felt anew the sense of helplessness as the Brit sat there, a gamut of emotions-primarily fear-running across his face. Forced to watch and pray as those implacable red numbers tick, tick, ticked Benji's life away. If Ethan's bluff hadn't planted the seed of doubt in Lane's mind, the ensuing explosion would've shredded Benji and him to pieces and seriously injured Ilsa who'd been sitting _right there-_

Brandt shook his head sharply, ducking into a random alley. He leaned up against the cool brick wall of some boutique advertising rare and unique items that couldn't be found anywhere else. Quite honestly the younger man didn't care what the store was offering. What were a few trinkets compared to risking your life?

 _Breathe._ He instructed his shaking body silently. _Everything's fine. Lane's in jail. He can't hurt anyone else._

But he knew as well as Ethan did-and that was probably what they were going to hash out when he returned-that it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out. Well, _he_ knew. But Brandt doubted Ethan was going to change his maverick style. He'd been doing it for so long, he didn't _know_ any other way to resolve a crisis.

That above everything else, was worrisome. For the twentieth time, Brandt wondered if he should've been more forceful with his backup plan. His method would've been more by the book with every possible angle, risk and sight taken and factored in. His cautious approach was clashing with Ethan's gambling style more and more often. Hell, they'd been butting heads mere minutes before their showdown with Lane but in the end he let Ethan have his way. And they were able to walk out alive, but it was by pure luck and one man's inhuman ability to pull victories out of his hat.

Brandt stilled as he watched a cat scamper by to raid the dumpster at the alley's end. A startling revelation about their latest mission hit him like a ton of bricks.

It wasn't going to be one of _them_ dying that broke Ethan. He managed to get back into the game and somehow pull out a miracle, even after losing people, he swore to avenge them and save an oblivious world yet again from another disaster. The problem was Ethan had never lost a mission. And that Brandt realized, was the proverbial straw that would finally break the older man's mind and soul.

Never mind the fact they'd won this round, there'd be other opponents far more cagey and opportunistic further down the line. Ethan was no longer a young man and his friends were aging right along with him. Gambling wasn't a foolproof strategy. It didn't always guarantee victory, and it put valuable lives at risk. You could only spin the roulette wheel so many times before getting burned. Brandt shivered, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets. _I need coffee. Maybe that'll help take this chill off._

Shoving off the wall he rejoined the pedestrian flow. Spotting a small cafe a few blocks from where he'd been Brandt entered and ordered a double-shot espresso with cream and sugar. He wasn't going back to sleep for a while. Not unless he wanted to get stuck back in that parking garage again.

Sipping the hot, sweet brew he slowly made his way back in the direction of the hotel. Brandt couldn't help but feel Ethan's high-risk actions would catch up to him in a really bad way. Unease ate away at his gut. He forced his pace to remain steady as his pulse thrummed unsteadily...dreading the one mission that not even Ethan's legendary risk-taking would be enough to bring everyone home. That with this unknown mission, one of IMF's best would be shattered beyond repair and-like watching Benji's life hanging in the balance-no amount of comfort and friendship they could give would ever put Ethan back together again.

 **-end**

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